


Jaskier's Rondo of Love and Death

by Bumblevi



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Eye Trauma, First time posting fanfic, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Temporary Character Death, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, based on Death and the Maiden, geralt/jaskier is the main ship, references to the takarazuka revue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblevi/pseuds/Bumblevi
Summary: After an unfortunate accident Jaskier winds up dead, luckily enough he is saved my a mysterious stranger.Un-luckily enough that comes with a price.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Jaskier's Rondo of Love and Death

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started as a very long text convo with a friend that I decided to expand into a fanfic, its my first time posting fanfic online so please be patient with me.

Jaskier met death at 19.

He had only been traveling with Geralt for about a year or so, and despite how strong and capable his witcher was, Jaskier was only human. He was honestly surprised he didn’t die sooner, with his generous amount of close calls and all.

When he imagined his death, however, he had thought it would be an exciting one. Slain by a magnificent beast while protecting a child (or fair maiden). It was just his luck that his demise was brought upon at the hands off the monster known as “falling out of a tree”. Quite a vicious beast that one, he was sure _Geralt_ would survive it if he ever came face to face with it.

Jaskier, however?

Jaskier was currently lying dead in a bush.

It was weird being dead. He knew he _was_ dead but that was about the extent of his abilities. A ghost not yet shorn of its vessel. Unable to feel, move, or even breathe. He simply bathed in his own consciousness, face down. And there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.

Well, of course, that was until he actually _met_ Death.

Their hands were cold when they pulled Jaskier’s limp body out of the bush, but they were hands. Not bone hands or monster hands, but real human flesh hands. Or- well, hands that seemed like they were real human flesh hands. He still couldn't feel the branches around him spearing into his body, but he held onto the concept of being able to feel something still. Which was comforting to him in a way.

What wasn’t comforting was the noise his arm made when it got pulled, as the broken bones inside rattled against each other. Well, on the bright side he knew he could hear now. That's one more sense checked off the list. Whoever pulled him out of his makeshift grave had done so with a surprising gentleness. They carried him off, but not too far, seemingly just far enough to be able to sit down properly. Which is what the stranger did, they laid him on the ground in front of them, and placed his head in their lap. This forced him to look up at his potential savior/weirdo who pulls free range corpses out of bushes.

For a brief moment, he thought a very anemic and skinny Geralt had found him (Geralt told him to stay put while he was off fighting the big scary monster, and really did he expect Jaskier to _sit still_?). However, their eyes weren’t the correct color. In all honesty, the only real resemblance was the long white hair. Except this person’s hair was much nicer than Geralt’s. Perhaps he could ask them what oil they use, so that he could finally deal with the mess that Geralt kept on his head.

The person suddenly pulled something out of Jaskier’s eye. It didn’t hurt though. That's probably due to him being dead but hey, he didn't have to feel something long getting yanked out of his eye. Upon closer inspection, (as close as he could muster being stuck lying down),the intruder in his eye had been a stick. A stick now coated in his own eye blood.

Gross.

He couldn't check and see but his doublet was probably ruined as well, and it was a nice one too! A nice honey color with white weaving, it was very lovely.

Then, the stranger suddenly spoke to him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“My my, what a shame the songbird fell out of its nest before it was ready to fly,” The stranger held his head with both of their hands, stroking his cheek idly with a thumb. “I heard you singing on my way to that town over there and just had to come and look.”

Jaskier would thank the person for their kind words (*ahem* GERALT) but he was still dead and thus, no talkie.

“It really is a shame. I can’t take you now, you're far too young to be of any use to me in my kingdom, but it would be such a waste to let a talent like yours die. How about we fix that for a second while we talk?” They looked down at him, and pressed their hands into his eyes.

With a rush of energy, Jaskier was suddenly back to himself. Huh. He thought that resurrecting someone would be more...dramatic? Perhaps a tad bit more sparkly, at the very least. He remained still for a few moments, just taking in the feeling of life. For the first time in what felt like ages to him, he could breathe. The grass prickled beneath him. The wind blew through the trees, swaying them back and forth in a lazy lullaby. Potential songs and melodies rushed through his head. Oh the ballads he could sing about this very moment. The tale of the bard and the-

Jaskier blinked, and turned his head to get a better look at his savior.

“As much as I appreciate you doing that- really it would have been so embarrassing for Geralt to find me in such a state- can I perchance know your name? And perhaps maybe how you did that. Because, from what I know of magic, that shouldn’t usually be possible. Unless I've been lied to, again.”

“I go by many names, but you may know me as Death.” They said in full seriousness.

Jaskier inhaled sharply. Then, he made a small squeaking sound as he tried to form words.   
“Great! Wow! Incredible! I love your work. I mean I really _don’t,_ but I appreciate those who have to take the hard jobs. Haha!” He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he resorted to waving them in the air a bit.

Death only smiled.

“Okay then!” Jaskier said, as he pulled himself off of Death’s lap. “So uh… I'm gonna take a hot guess and assume you actually are Death because otherwise I don’t want to know why you would make up such an elaborate lie. I mean honestly, your hands felt like it belonged to a corpse.”

He restlessly ran a hand through his hair and started looking around for his lute. Hopefully it was undamaged.

Death chuckled, and stood up, holding their hand out for Jaskier. Jaskier saw no other choice but to let Death help them up. He didn't want to risk upsetting the person (entity? god?) who resurrected him in the first place.

He brushed the dirt off off his clothes, but it was of no use. His hunch was right, his outfit was ruined beyond repair. At least the blood paired nicely with the color scheme. Nice dark red, with vivid honey, and delicate white. It would make for a nice autumn ensemble. Yes, if the dark red was on a scarf instead of splattered about and crusty it would be lovely.

Hesitantly, he looked back up at Death. Now that he got a better look at them, he could say with confidence that they were one of the most beautiful beings he had ever laid his eyes upon.

Death stood at well over six feet tall, their thin frame giving them an air of impossible elegance. They had long silver hair that was delicately curled around their bone white face, accentuating their sharp cheekbones. Dark powder shimmered around their eyes. A double pile black velvet cloak was wrapped around their figure, so long that it touched the ground even with Death’s impressive height, with a fine dark scarlet shirt resting underneath with dramatic bishop sleeves. It was as if someone took the night itself, then carved a person out of it, moon and all.

Jaskier was pleased at the notion that Death had a good sense of style. However, standing before someone so beautiful (not to mention dangerous) made him nervous.

“As much as I enjoy your clear appreciation of me, I would like to know _your_ name as well.” Death said, pulling Jaskier out of his thoughts. Sweet melitele how long had he been staring? Jaskier scrambled for a response.

“Yes! Name, well- my name _isn’t_ yes. I was simply saying that to confirm I would give you my name you see and uh. Hm. Name. My name is Jaskier, Bard to the White Wolf. I hope that whatever you heard of me is good.” Jaskier hoped that Geralt came back soon.

Or maybe not. How would he ever explain this situation?

Death hummed, as if deep in thought. “I have heard of the White Wolf on my travels. If my assumption is correct, that is what you call the Butcher of Blaviken nowadays is it not?”

Jaskier began to sweat.

“Well I wouldn’t call him the butcher anymore. He hates that nickname in all honesty.” Jaskier fiddled with hands.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened at Blaviken. Geralt never gave him a straight answer, but he could tell that whatever happened hurt Geralt immensely. It broke his heart seeing Geralt’s resigned face whenever they were thrown out of towns while the townspeople hurled rocks and mud at them.

“I can understand, the nickname makes no sense anyhow. Your friend didn't even butcher the bodies. He simply sliced some of their limbs and heads off.” Death said with a slight chuckle.

“You- you were there?” Jaskier was surprised.

But it made sense. Of course Death was there, they were Death.

“In a sense, yes. I was. However I did not stop long enough to wish your friend a goodbye, or even a simple hello.” Death had a wistful air to them as they said this.

“Ah...I see.” Jaskier considered asking Death what really happened, but he decided against it. “Now that I’m alive again, what's going to happen?”

Death ran their hands down Jaskier’s ruined clothes. “I’m afraid I don't have anything to replace those, but perhaps this will suffice.” Death said, completely ignoring Jaskier’s question like a cad.

In a grand sweeping motion, they casted off their cloak and swaddled Jaskier up in it. Surprisingly it was rather warm, and smelled of oleander. Instinctively, Jaskier pulled it tighter around himself.

He looked up at Death expectantly. Death reached over and pulled a small thin wooden box from one of the pockets in the cloak, and pressed it into Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he was allowed to open it, so he let the box be. For all he knew it could have held the trapped souls of mortals.

“Let's make a deal, shall we? You know I can't just let you go scot free like that.” Death looked down at him and smiled warmly.

“I don't think I have a choice in this either way really.” Jaskier laughed nervously.

Why, oh why did he have to climb that tree? The view wasn't even worth it.

“You have some choice at least. Either you can come with me now and go to the afterlife where you initially belonged, or you can keep living. With a catch of course.”

“Yeah that sounds about right. Quick question, will I have to give up my striking looks? You can take anything but I beg of you to leave my beauty alone, oh and my voice. My two livelihoods.” Jaskier could imagine nothing worse than being mute and ugly. He shuddered at the mere thought, how could he live if he couldn't spread his beauty around the lands.

“Inside the case you have in your hands is a dagger. As soon as you want to return to me, use that on yourself and I will take you away. Together we will walk to the afterlife, where you will then become my betrothed, and rule my kingdom with me.” Death’s voice was smooth and melodious. If it were not for the whole “death” thing they would make a lovely singer.

Wait did Death say betrothed? As in _marriage?_ He was already running away from one marriage, he couldn't bear to have to run away from two.

Deep down, he was more afraid of Death than he was of dying, but either option would end in the same result. It all goes back to Death in the end, Jaskier supposed.

He looked down at the wood case, deep in thought. Its wash was dark and rich, like everything else about Death honestly. He opened it to actually see the dagger inside. His future cause for demise, should he agree.

The entire knife was black- go figure. The only person who seemed to like black more than Death was Geralt, though Death knew how to brighten things up with hints of red. Although the thought of _why_ this was wasn't comforting in the slightest. Inlaid in the hilt were a multitude of small red gemstones. He had no clue if they were garnet, ruby, or something else entirely.

Jaskier ran his finger along the flat of the blade. It was curved slightly, both edges being obviously sharpened to a dangerous degree. Even the smallest cut would be sure to hurt like a bitch.

Great. Death by bush or dagger. What seemed better? If he died by the bush he wouldn't get to travel with Geralt anymore, and that was a bummer. He was only 19! He had so much to live for, so many places to see, so many songs to write, so many people to entrance.

But if he chose the dagger… he would _eventually_ be tied down for all eternity to someone he hardly knew. Not a comforting thought mind you. Not comforting at all.

Geralt would be so lonely without him though, surely he would. He knew Geralt hid his emotions under 7 layers of repression and angst, but he just needed a friend to help him along. Besides, Jaskier felt like he had a _purpose_ when he was with Geralt.

Geralt was...Geralt was incredible. Sure he was abrasive, and mean, and distant. But deep down he was kind. If only Jaskier could get everyone else to see what he saw. That's why he stayed with Geralt.

Ultimately his mind was made up. He didn’t want to leave Geralt, not yet.

Jaskier closed the box and slid it into his pocket, then stepped back and bowed to Death. Death’s smile grew even wider, with a satisfied and dangerous look in their eye.

“You’ve chosen well. When you call upon me, I shall be there to take you away. For now I must bid you farewell, as much as I would enjoy spending the days and nights listening to you my dear, I have work to attend to. We will have our chance to talk in due time.” Death bowed to him, and took a firm grasp of his hand. “Keep the cloak as a memento of me. Already I eagerly await your return.”

They pulled his hand up to their face, and pressed their mouth against his knuckles in a near kiss. Jaskier was speechless.

“Goodbye, Death.”

“Goodbye, Julian.” And as suddenly as they appeared, Death was gone. Leaving Jaskier alone in the woods, awestruck and dazed.

How was he going to tell Geralt about this?

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think! I'll have more chapters up eventually but posting my work online is pretty nerve wracking so it might take a bit before I get enough confidence to post again.


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